


Songs from the Batcave

by stellar_dust



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Batcave, Fanmix, Gen, Music, POV Second Person, Season/Series 08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-12 07:18:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/808819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellar_dust/pseuds/stellar_dust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean finds a pile of old records in the batcave.  Soundtrack on 8tracks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Songs from the Batcave

**Author's Note:**

> I'm marking this as finished, but there might be a few more bits of fic added to frame the music, eventually. Thought I'd get the mix posted now, though, while the fandom's still high on S8 feels.
> 
> Mix is posted here: [Songs from the Batcave](http://8tracks.com/stellar_dust/songs-from-the-batcave)

1.

The first place you go when you leave the batcave (and that name is so going to stick if you have anything to say about it) - before you pick up your new mattress (and Sam's, you guess), even before you hit up the Hy-Vee for some fresh ground beef and barbecue sauce, and how weird is it that you're _planning to go to the grocery store -_

Anyway, the first place you go is the record shop. You hang a right off 14th Street onto Mass, slide your baby into the first empty spot. The whole street's just a little too hipster, shady trees growing out of red brick sidewalks, fashion boutiques, comic shop, used books. Girls with glasses and flirty skirts parking their bikes outside the indie java joint. There's even a freaking juice bar. Sam would love it.

Bells jingle as you open the door and you stop, just inside, because they've got Metallica coming over the speakers (something off _Ride the Lightning_ , you think, not your favorite but whatever, it's awesome), and sure there's CDs and guitars and band posters and a co-ed with pink hair and a nose ring behind the counter, but all you can see is the rows and rows of vinyl stretching out in front of you for miles and it's.

It's the first time you've been in a place like this when you're actually allowed to _buy something_. No monsters, no fed suit, and no fake ID in your pocket ... ok, sure, but it's a driver's license, not a fed badge, thing's practically genuine.

And back ... back _home_ there's at least three record players, you have _a record player in your bedroom_ , and you've wanted this for so goddamn long that for a second you really just can't breathe. Can't. God. You don't understand how this is your life now, how you're someone who can have this.

Eventually you move and you walk down the aisles, just running your hands over the titles, flipping through the familiar names and the ones you've only heard on the radio, jukeboxes in a thousand diners, pausing when you see cover art that's burned into your brain from long hours in the front seat, turning the cassettes over and over in your hands and listening to Dad tell you (again) to _be careful, son, keep the gun next to you and for God's sake stay back this time and take care of your brother, and oh, hey, love this song, Dean, did I ever tell you about Pink Floyd live in Detroit in '75? Brian and I took a long weekend, left your mom at --_

You never did find out what happened in Detroit. Your Detroit story probably beats his anyhow.

You get _Led Zeppelin_ , because they have one copy left and you. You need it.

It's more expensive than you thought for a used album, so instead of getting Sammy a Britney CD you grab a juice for him on the way out, 'cause you're in a good mood and it's been a few days since you gave him any crap for all that rabbit food he eats, seriously, tomatoes are completely worthless unless you put 'em on a burger.

Right, burgers. On second thought, you stop at the Burger King by the turnpike instead of the Hy-Vee - groceries and an awesome non-smelly mattress can wait till tomorrow, right now you've got more important things.

2.

You're working your way through room 12B - another bedroom, a few rooms down the hall from Sam's, stuffed to overflowing with boxes and filing cabinets and books (mostly novels, penny westerns, awesome) and a dresser full of moth-eaten suits and cotton undershirts, just a thin patch of floor stretching from the door to the bed with its raggedy, unmade sheets and busted mattress.

You wonder what it would have been like to live here when all the bedrooms were lived in, to grow up here maybe, with your mom and dad and grandparents, surrounded by friends and family, still working against the demons and the darkness. You get lost for a minute in the image of chasing baby Sammy through the bunker, laughter echoing off the catwalks, Dad's voice yelling at you to _get the hell away from the map table, go play outside, dammit, boys --_

But that'll never have happened, so you clamp a lid on it and turn to the next musty old artifact, not a box this time but a pile of old LPs, stacked by the bed and tied together with string, and there's a note on top and a still-full bottle of good scotch with a faded ribbon tied round the neck.

 _Winchester,_ it reads. _Congrats old chap! Knew you'd make it. Got a shindig planned for tomorrow, bring these along and a stack of yours and we'll just see who's got the better taste in music. (Hint: it's me.) ... Good to have you around the place, brother._

It's signed _Larry_.

For about a minute, you can't deal.

Then you gather up the pile and the bottle and carry them out into what you've started calling the library. Sam's - finally - not studying, but he's curled up on the chair in a blanket, bloodshot eyes staring, looking worse than he has since Lucifer rode him to the nuthouse.

It breaks your heart, but you pour a couple fingers of the vintage into a glass and wrap his hand around it, getting a tired smile in exchange.

"Hey, Sammy," you say as you put the first record on the ancient player . "You gotta listen to this."

Maybe one day it'll be Sam's kids running through the place, you think.

Or, hell, maybe yours.

[](http://8tracks.com/stellar_dust/songs-from-the-batcave)

**Author's Note:**

> Track List:
> 
> 1\. Led Zeppelin - How Many More Times (1969) (This is the LP Dean puts down in the first scene of _Everybody Hates Hitler_ )   
>  2\. Frank Sinatra - One For My Baby (And One More For The Road) (1947)   
>  3\. Dan W. Quinn - I Want To Go To Morrow (1902)   
>  4\. Hoagy Carmichael - Small Fry (1938)   
>  5\. Nat King Cole - Almost Like Being In Love (1954) (This is also on one of the LPs in Dean's room.)   
>  6\. Billy Murray - He'd Have To Get Under (Get Out and Get Under) (1914)   
>  7\. Artie Shaw & Nat King Cole - I Should Care (1951)   
>  8\. Roaring Lion - I Ain't Gonna Do It No More (1940s?)   
>  9\. Louis Armstrong - When You're Smiling (1956 or earlier)   
>  10\. Benny Goodman - Silhouetted in the Moonlight (1937)   
>  11\. Django Reinhardt - Paper Moon (1949) (instrumental - google for the lyrics: It's only a paper moon, under a muslin sky; but it wouldn't be make believe if you believed in me)   
>  12\. Patti Page - Cross Over the Bridge (1954)   
>  13\. Sons of the Pioneers - Cool, Clear Water (1948)   
>  14\. Ella Fitzgerald - Ace in the Hole (1956)   
>  15\. Frankie Laine - On The Sunny Side of the Street (1949) (This song plays at the end of _EHH_.)   
>  16\. Mississippi John Hurt - Boys You're Welcome (1920s?)


End file.
